


The Year Was 1926

by sleepyCJwritesSTUFFnow



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Relationship(s), Resident Evil AU, Slow Romance, Tinseltown - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27127922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepyCJwritesSTUFFnow/pseuds/sleepyCJwritesSTUFFnow
Summary: Months -- nearly a year -- had passed since Ada Wong had left Broadway and signed a contract with Paramount. She had left behind the man who loved her, though she had not yet known it, and to cross paths with him now was shocking. Now working with the LAPD, Leon S. Kennedy knew he had gotten in deep. If he had known how much deeper he was about to become with her, the shock might have killed him. After all, the silver screen on which she danced and ignited his heart was much darker than the stage lights he had last seen her under. 1920s Hollywood AU.
Relationships: Carlos Oliveira/Jill Valentine, Leon S. Kennedy/Ada Wong, Rebecca Chambers/Claire Redfield
Comments: 12
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

It had been months since he had last seen her. To be staring down the barrel of her pistol now stunned him more than anything else could. He couldn’t believe it. She was close enough to him that he could see the rise and fall of her chest, and he desperately wished he could feel it. Yet he only put his hands up in surrender as she inched closer to him, her heels clicking against the cold pavement. There was something in her eyes, something that told him he knew she had to be feeling as much as he was. He met them evenly with his own, but it made his heart speed up nonetheless. It really had been so long. Slowly, Ada lowered her gun and hid it discreetly under her coat. Then, she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the city streets. Albeit startled, Leon matched her composure.

“Since when are you in Los Angeles?”   


Leon glanced to her suddenly when the question left her lips. Ada did not meet his gaze this time, but her lips quirked up in a bit of a half smirk.

“Cat got your tongue?” She teased, her voice so low it was almost a purr.

Leon managed to chuckle. “I simply got work out here. Los Angeles Police Department, special investigations unit. Don’t flatter yourself, if you’re thinking I made the journey from New York for you.”

Ada discreetly swatted at his arm. “You never have been much of a charmer, have you Kennedy?”   


“Now, now, that’s no way to speak to your escort,” Leon replied, now smirking himself. “But, in all seriousness, I’m glad to see you. It has been too long.”   


Ada paused her step ever so briefly. “Is it too much to confess I missed your company as well?”

Leon smiled. “Well, it’s good the sentiment is mutual.”   


Ada eyed him up and down, setting her hands to her hips. It was not particularly cold -- winter in Los Angeles never was -- but she was wearing a white mink fur coat, underneath which she wore a red dress that cut off just past her knees. He could see wisps of her ashen hair, too, peeking out from under her hat.

“Needless to say, you haven’t changed much,” Ada reached up and grabbed his hair, which had grown down past his shoulders. “How is it you stay clean shaven and yet don’t think to cut your hair. Quite scandalous of you. Are you hoping to unsettle your new employers?”   


“I can hide it underneath my hat,” Leon replied, not bothering to bat her hands away as they threaded through his hair. He had no intention of admitting it, but her murmurings and the way her fingers played with his hair sent gentle shivers down his spine. “They have me investigating crimes, Ada. I’m not a receptionist. I don’t have to look pretty….although I think we both know I’m a very attractive man.”   


She grinned. “You’ve grown cocky without me, haven’t you?”   


“Cocky?” Leon scoffed. “I’m afraid you are underestimating my character. I am a much more introspective person than you appear to be giving me credit for. I believe Hollywood must be changing  _ your  _ view of men.”   


“Perhaps,” Ada replied with a twinkle in her eyes. “But, then again, I’ve been successful thus far, have I not? My name is in the papers quite frequently these days, I’ll have you know.”   


Leon reached into his work bag and unfurled a newspaper. “I’m well aware,” He said, pointing at the headline from a Chicago paper he had picked up while on the train. “You seem to becoming a sensation, and you don’t even have to --”   


“Hush,” Ada hissed, suddenly grabbing the paper and stuffing it back in his bag.   


Leon took a small step back. “Ada….” He began, his stomach starting to sink.   


“Come with me.”   


He wasn’t quite sure she had truly spoken the words but he did follow her. It was not long before they reached an (arguably gaudy) apartment building. He followed her up the stairs, and he followed her into the apartment he assumed must be hers. It was on the fifth floor, and when he entered it he was more than a bit taken aback. There were paintings displayed on the walls, high end furniture, and several designer gowns strewn around everywhere except for the kitchen. Ada shrugged off her coat and peeled up a floorboard, under which she deposited her gun. There were bullets under there as well, and a leather bound notebook. Leon sat down, dropping his bag, and kicking off his shoes. If it bothered Ada, she made no sign of it, and instead reclosed the floor before taking off her shoes herself.

“You want a drink?”   


“You aren’t concerned I’ll arrest you?”   


Ada scowled. “You wouldn’t try that, would you Kennedy?”   


Leon waved his hand dismissively. “It may be sacrilegious, but we have our own stores of alcohol at the office. After major arrests, the boss makes toasts to those of us who were involved. He’s quite a wealthy man. He almost always has French champagne on hand, as it so happens.”   


Ada’s eyes briefly narrowed but then she tossed her head back and laughed. Leon leaned back and grinned when he saw her turn towards her ice box and remove a bottle of red wine. She deftly uncorked it, and poured them both a full glass, sitting down across from him.   


“Your wealth is ostentatious, Miss Wong,” Leon teased. “How have you done so well in this town in such little time?”   


“That’s more than my contracts are worth,” Ada replied, sipping her wine. Then, she sighed. “You’ve heard quite a bit about what happened on set at Paramount last week, I assume?”   


“You mean the death of that extra?” Leon shook his head. “We haven’t dwelled on it. Probably an accident, all things considered. Those damn harnesses aren’t reliable anyways.”   
Ada set down her glass, pursing her lips. “It was no accident,” She whispered. “The harness was unharmed. You all never saw it after, now did you?”   


Leon hesitated. “We didn’t need to. It was --”   


He cut himself off upon catching the fear in her eyes and the sudden hitch in her breath.   


“Ada,” He said slowly, reaching over to rest his hand over hers. She did not object, only trying to steady her breathing. “What is going on? Why the gun? Why this?”   


Ada sighed. “They’re killing people, Leon,” She whispered. “And I think it goes all the way up to my director...the man who has directed all of my films.”   


Leon tensed. “Wesker.”

He knew plenty of the man from the papers, and he hated every photograph of him. Even more, he was well aware of the director’s friends in the department.

“Yes,” Ada confirmed. “I believe it is him. Who else would it be?”

“Shit,” Leon muttered. “Fuck.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Cut! Cut the cameras, now!”

Wesker irritably stubbed out his cigar and lowered his sunglasses to glower at the set hands. He stepped out of his chair and started towards them, setting his hands to his hips. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see that damn Detective Kennedy but, aside from how the man kept stepping toward Ada at seemingly every opportunity, that was the least of his concerns. He pushed through a few extras, ignoring their grumblings, and shouted for the head of lighting to climb down from the catwalk. The set operators involved, particularly the new hires, became almost petrified in fear when he approached them.   


“Somebody fix her makeup!” Wesker gestured towards Ada, who unflinchingly met his gaze. “Her mascara is smudging! Are you trying to wash her out? She won’t show up right on the reel if you don’t do it right!”   


The young makeup artist, Claire Redfield, scurried out from the wings where she had been watching the shoot with her boss, an older woman who rarely spoke and whom Claire didn’t even know the name of. Nevertheless, she believed she was learning quite a bit from her and, honestly, the money was good enough. She slung her bag over her shoulder and waited for her boss to sit the star down before she reopened the set. Though she refused to acknowledge it while she worked, she knew full well that Detective Kennedy was watching her. Ada seemed to know it too, given the way the star kept glancing towards him when afforded the opportunity. 

Briefly, Claire let her thoughts wander as she was instructed to fix Ada’s makeup, wondering if the star was in a liaison with the detective. She wouldn’t have been shocked. After all, she had been involved in the business for over three years, now, and had seen a slew of actresses become involved with directors or their friends. Wesker would certainly have friends in the LAPD, wouldn’t he? Claire sighed, refocusing the best she could on her work. The mere thought of the director annoyed her, and, though she had thus far not said anything on the subject, she thought he was a vile womaniser. Her brother had once remarked that her view on the director could perhaps be uncharitable but, all things considered, she didn’t care. Of all the directors she had worked under, Wesker had gotten under her skin the most.

_ Maybe he gets under her skin too _ , Claire paused for a moment to inspect the star’s eyeshadow and then, satisfied, stepped away. Ada did not move for several seconds, only glancing between Detective Kennedy and Wesker out of the corner of her eyes.

“Not to bother you, miss,” Kennedy stepped towards Claire, ceasing his step when he saw her startle. “I am not going to bother you, no worries. I just have a few questions, if you don’t mind answering.”   


Claire raised an eyebrow. “Questions about what?”

“How long have you worked here?”

“About three years.”   


“Exclusively under Mister Albert Wesker?”   


Claire frowned. “Exclusively for Paramount,” She replied shortly. “But under multiple directors.”   


Unfazed, Kennedy made a note in the back of his pocketbook. “Do you have any other occupations?”   


“I work as a waitress late evenings, six days a week,” Claire shut her makeup supplies and slung her bag over her shoulder again. “Is that relevant?”   


She caught Ada’s gaze for about a second and, if there had been anything in the star’s eyes to betray her thoughts, Claire didn’t have the time to catch it.   


“How would you describe Mister Wesker?” Kennedy pressed on. “Regarding his temperament in particular?”   


“Well, he --”   


Claire cut herself off and almost tripped when Ada stood up suddenly and walked past her, their shoulders almost brushing. Mentally, she cursed the star but held her tongue. The whole city knew of Ada’s quick and unforgiving tongue, and Claire did not want to be on the receiving end of the backlash. Still, she presented herself as unfazed, albeit scowling, and began to --

“God damn it!” Wesker barked, ripping off his sunglasses in sheer rage. Seconds later, a light fell to the ground and exploded, sending glass shatters and a wave of heat through the studio. “Who rigged that light? I want them down here! Now!”

A young man of about twenty three climbed down from the catwalk, looking terrified. Wesker slowly beckoned him, his face growing dark.

“Who would have been under that light just ten minutes ago?” He spoke deliberately, his voice unusually calm.   


“A….A...Ada Wong,” The stage hand trembled.

“Yes,” Wesker gestured towards Ada, who now was only a few feet away from him. She frowned, her eyes narrowing at him rather than the stage hand. “You nearly dropped a light on my star,” Wesker went on. “And that would have not only roughed up her pretty face but it could have killed her too. Not only that,” He kicked at some of the damage on the ground. “But your ignorance has caused damage to  _ my _ set. Do you understand the severity of what your ignorance has done?”   


“Wesker --” Ada began, a hint of warning in her voice.   


“Get off my set,” Wesker ordered the stage hand. “Now, or I will call security and I’m sure you would prefer not to take a trip down to the police station.”   


Leon raised an eyebrow, watching the young man leave in abject terror. Claire snorted under her breath.   


“Does that answer your question?” She asked him dryly.   


Leon nodded shortly. “Well enough. One more: does Miss Wong often disagree with Mister Wesker?”   


“Depends on what you mean,” Claire replied dryly. “Would you even call that a disagreement?”

* * *

“Please, have a seat,” Leon smiled at Ada as she slipped into the speakeasy. Offering him a tight one in return, she took a seat across from him and shed her coat. “How are you? Would you like me to buy you a drink? It seemed today could have been rather exhausting.”

“It’s not too different from how things were on Broadway,” Ada shortly replied. “But I won’t say no to a glass or two of carmenere if you’re offering.”

Leon nodded. For just a moment, he said nothing and embraced the opportunity to observe her. Her hair was much shorter than it had been the last time they had seen each other, although he supposed that had more to do with fashion than anything else. Her eyes seemed more tired, too, and that sense of fatigue seemed to carry through her shoulders. It wasn’t a look he had seen her wear much, but, then again, had he really taken the time to observe her before?

“You really need to let me cut your hair,” Ada broke into his thoughts and, to his surprise, he laughed a little. “I’m completely serious,” She reminded him. “It’s ridiculous.”   


Leon shrugged. “If you would like, I’ll permit you to do that this weekend if you’re free.”   


Ada raised an eyebrow. “If you’re proposing a date --”

“Perhaps I am,” He replied. “But it could also be strictly professional.”

“I won’t object to a date,” Ada eyed him for a few seconds and then shook her head. “Do everyone a favor and do not let anyone at the studio find out about it. I’d rather not bury my career.”

“Of course,” Leon agreed, then clearing his throat. “It’s settled, then. We will have a date this Saturday, and I’ll let you trim my hair.”

Ada tapped his foot with her heels under the table, a genuine smile gracing her lips. Leon tapped her foot back, wanting to reach across the table to touch her hands but deciding against it. She was probably right about the studio wanting to control her image. Associating with a detective would, no doubt, not fit the narrative -- whatever it was -- they sought to create of her.   


“If you don’t mind,” He said, lowering his voice considerably. The chatter around them was loud, but an uneasy pit was growing in his stomach. “I would like to talk about what I observed on set today. I spoke to a few of the stage hands and the apprentice makeup artist --”   


“Claire?” Ada shook her head. “I’m sure she told you about what you saw today. That Wes is a short tempered asshole who blows up at every damn thing. Incapable of murder my ass.”   


Leon sighed, hearing the bitter muttering and believing it. Though he personally believed everyone was capable of murder, he was starting to believe there was more to her suspicion of Wesker than he had initially thought. He wasn’t convinced Wesker had rigged the most recent death, the one from just a few weeks before, but he did think it was rather curious. He had managed to track down the fired stage hand after he had left the set (and had nearly been late to their meeting because of it) and the man had insisted the lights had all been completely secure when they had taken a break for lunch. Leon knew it could have been a mistake on the man’s part, an accident, but, now, he couldn’t help but wonder if it had been set up. Wesker would certainly have the capability, but would he have any motive?   


“I’m not convinced he’s caused the deaths you described, Ada,” Leon said calmly. “But I certainly think it is possible. You weren’t kidding about his temper, either. Is he always that easy to enrage?”   


Ada considered it for a moment. “Depends,” She admitted. “But you saw how he reacted to my attempt to argue. He certainly didn’t punish me for it, even if he ignored it.”

Leon shook his head. “I don’t understand what he could have to gain, Ada. I’m going to need more to work with.”   


“Then you ought to talk more with the extras,” She murmured, glancing over her shoulder as if she were worried she were being watched. “Because they knew the woman who died much better than I did.”

“Of course,” Leon shortly agreed. “Any other leads before we attempt to have a pleasant meal?”

“I’ll keep you posted,” Ada glanced down at her hands, her head still throbbing a bit from the noise of the set and the noise around them that rung out. “Just watch your step. Wes thinks you’re one of the men in his pocket right now. Do not let him find out otherwise.”


	3. Chapter 3

“There. Now, doesn’t that look better?”

Leon looked at himself in the mirror as he stood up, turning slightly to check the sides. On the floor was a ring of hair -- his hair, although he couldn’t quite believe it -- and he caught a glimpse of Ada’s smirk in the mirror as she quickly swept it away. Funnily enough, she had left his bangs just long enough to hang a bit shaggily over his eyes, something he liked quite a bit himself. Briefly, the thought crossed his mind to slick it back for work, but he set it aside. Work, thankfully, was hours away. This time was for her. Shaking out his hair, Leon dusted himself off and approached her with a smirk mimicking her own. Still in her dress from the party earlier that evening, Ada was as beautiful as ever; her makeup was far more delicate than it was on set, but, so far as Leon was concerned, it had the same effect of contrasting with her raven hair. Her dress, too, was perfectly draped for her delicate figure, and (as he knew from the single dance he had obliged her with) was of the finest silk. Without even realising it, he found himself reaching out to embrace her again. Alone in her apartment, she had no objections and even teasingly kissed his nose.

“It’s much nicer here than at Thelma’s party, don’t you think?” Ada chuckled lightly to herself and then shook her head. “You and I are allowed to touch without there being questions. Good thing everyone believed you to be my escort….I suppose that’s the only good thing that’s come of the deaths of late.”

Leon raised an eyebrow. “And if there had been no such clear reason? What would you have said then?”

“That I’m a rising star not looking to be harassed into entertaining on my couch,” Ada frowned, pausing for a few seconds in thought. “Or something of the like. Truthfully, I haven’t given it much thought. There’s much more to think about than hypotheticals, don’t you agree?”

“Of course,” Leon replied. “Besides, as a member of the special investigations unit, I think I could provide you with a sufficient alibi for any occasion.”

“Is that so?” Ada wrapped her arms around his neck and winked. “Care to provide me one for this?”   
Leon gently pried her arms off him. “You were about to have a fainting spell because you fasted most of the day and only had a few glasses of wine at Thelma’s party.”

“Hmm…” Ada tapped her chin for a second in thought. “And how would you explain it if you were ever caught with me having dinner alone?”

“It wouldn’t be out of place to suggest the studio had assigned me as your escort due to your rising status, as you said so yourself,” Leon crossed his arms and leaned against the table. “All things considered, that  _ could  _ happen.”

Ada shrugged. “If you intoxicate Wesker enough, perhaps he’ll agree to it. More likely that he would want one of his goons to keep an eye on me.”

Having no argument, Leon said nothing and instead eyed her for a minute. There was no tension between them -- they both had come to the agreement that Wes was controlling of his people at best -- but it certainly felt odd. He supposed that was because he knew their time together was meant to be a date. Bringing work into it would of course feel wrong, wouldn’t it? Then again, he mused, there was no way to untangle work from their lives, was there? If it hadn’t been for their work, he doubted they would have ever been brought together again. Was it really so perverse to thank the gruesome happenings in the city for drawing them back into each other’s orbit? Leon shuddered at the thought. Rationalising to himself was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Kennedy?” Ada snapped her fingers in front of his face, her eyebrows scrunched together and her eyes narrow in concern. “The hell are you thinking so hard about?”

“Work,” He shortly replied. “But that’s not our concern tonight, now is it?”

Ada rolled her eyes. “You never stop thinking, do you?”

“And you do?” Leon half teased. “Clearing the mind isn’t something I’m trained to do, and I highly doubt you were ever trained to do it either.”

“True enough,” Ada conceded, turning on her heel towards her ice box across the room. “Care for another glass of wine? It has been a while since we last had any.”

Leon laughed. “Hollywood starlets drink quite a bit, now don’t you?”

“I do not,” Ada replied, her smirk returning to her lips. “I can’t speak for others, but I only drink when I’m entertaining. Alcohol is too hard to find these days as it is. I’m not going to squander it.”

Leon grinned when she handed him a full glass of cabernet. “I think I’m sensing a pattern with you,” He joked. “Expensive taste is among it, evidently.”

Ada sarcastically gestured to her dress. “Took you long enough to figure that out, Leon. What did you think, that I was going to dress in potato sacks and drink old grape water?”

Leon took a sip of his wine and winked over the rim of his glass. “You never settle for less than the best,” He said with a bit of a chuckle. “I should have seen that when you entered Broadway. Clearly, I hadn’t hit my stride quite yet back then.”

“You’re flattering me,” Ada sauntered back towards him and, her glass in one hand, grabbed his tie with the other, pulling him closer to him. “I’m not that easy, Kennedy,” She whispered in his ear. “You’re going to have to do much better than simple flattery if you want to make us go anywhere.”

Leon groaned when she let him go. “And here I thought this would be an easy endeavor.”

Sensing the dry edge to his voice, Ada kissed his cheek. “You know me well,” She reminded him. “Or, at least, you’re going to again.”

“I like the sound of that,” He teased, clicking his glass against hers. “And it is only sweetened by our subterfuge. Our work being grim or not, I would say you’re worth it. Would it be inappropriate to call you my sacrifice? Or would you prefer I call you my silver lining?”

“Silver lining…” Ada mused. “Is that perhaps a reference to my film career?”   


“What else would it be?” He replied.   


Ada set down her glass and smiled, leaning in to softly kiss his lips. “You earned that one,” She murmured, her hands firmly on his shoulders. “You’re making this much more bearable, Leon. Do me a favor and don’t fuck this up. You’re too good for me to lose.”   


He met her gaze and winked. “Well, who would I be to say no to a lady such as you?”


	4. Chapter 4

“Kennedy!”   


Leon sighed, turning around in his chair and irritably setting aside his pen only to have one of his superiors drop three overflowing files on his desk. She just barely missed his hand, and Leon, ever so briefly, wanted to tell her to leave him be but he knew better.

“You’re behind on the reports,” Jill tersely reminded him, crossing her arms. “The hell have you been doing the last few weeks? Don’t tell me you’re moonlighting as a dancer.”

Leon rolled his eyes. “I barely have time to sleep these days. Spare me for being a little behind. If you want to make me do more, get me some coffee.”

Jill bristled. “I’m not a coffee girl,” She snapped. “And all you idiots better remember I’m as much of a member of the force as you all. And,” She sent him a dark look. “They pulled me up to STARS, not you. So don’t you dare treat me like I’m less than you, because you’re still a rookie and I’m a fucking STARS member.”

“So I’ve heard,” Leon sent her a dark look. “Out of curiosity, how did that happen? You’re not a medic like Rebecca, and everyone else on that team is male. Sounds to me like you have to be extraordinary to heremake them discard that. Not like the LAPD is known for being inclusive.”

Jill frowned. “Some of us,” She hissed. “Actually have enough of a work ethic for things like whether or not we have a dick to mean nothing. Do me a favor and remember that.”   


Leon put his hands up in mock surrender. “Not trying to devalue your skill. Just curious. I heard you tried to enter the military before the force. I’m going to assume that didn’t go your way.”

“Of course it didn’t,” She muttered. “They can’t recognise skill even if you can probably shoot better than most of them. It’s nothing short of stupid.”

Leon shrugged and turned disdainfully towards the files she had dropped on him. The last thing he wanted to do was comb through the reports, but he knew he didn’t have much of a choice. At the very least, he needed the money and getting kicked off the force was probably not the best way to do that.

“Anything else?” He gestured to the files. “Or should I start going through these and try not to stab my eardrums with a fork out of sheer boredom.”

“Just a fair warning,” Jill replied with a scowl, albeit less for him and more for her contemporaries. “We have a fundraiser tomorrow night, and Albert Wesker is going to be there. He’s recently made quite a substantial donation to the force, so be civil. If the rumors that  _ you _ are driving him mad are true, anyways. Speaking of which, what have you been doing hanging around his film shoots? Don’t tell me you’ve been degraded to simple security. I thought you were getting your shit together.”

Leon quirked an eyebrow. “I’ll answer that if you answer my question about how you got here.”

“This isn’t a quid pro quo,” Jill sent him a pointed look. “And I’m not demanding you answer me. All I’m saying is that I think you ought to watch your step. The way I heard it, Wesker thinks your presence is useful in keeping his people in line but that doesn’t mean he thinks you’re above poking around.”

Leon rolled his eyes. “I’m a member of law enforcement. It’s my job to poke around. Besides,” He went on with a smirk. “I’m not an idiot. I know better than to offend the great and powerful Albert Wesker.”

Jill stifled back a laugh. “Just don’t get your ass kicked,” She told him. “You’re a pain in the ass, but we all prefer you alive.”

* * *

Finally alone, Ada all but collapsed into her couch after she stored her weapons away. A light breeze fluttered into her apartment from the half-open doors out onto the balcony, and she welcomed it, hoping the cool air would at least lessen her exhaustion. The day had been painfully long; she had flitted between film shoots for nearly ten hours without much of a rest and then there had been that damn dinner with several of her co-stars, Wesker, and a few of the company executives. Ada supposed it was probably for the best that the dinner had been boring, but she did wonder how it was possible she hadn’t fallen asleep. She quickly set aside the thought that followed. She had, though she would admit it to no one, spent most of the event thinking about Leon and the increasing time they spent together. Tiredly probing her forehead, she told herself, yet again, that she had been too keyed up to fall asleep. Wesker had spent most of the time discussing her (a fact she was sure had only worsened her already poor relationships with her costars) and the executives had been almost too fascinated by her. It had been a waking nightmare.

“You really should lock the door.”

Ada jumped, only to scowl at Leon as he nonchalantly stepped in, shutting and locking the door behind him. He eyed her for a few seconds in concern and then sighed, looking rather tired himself. Ada did soften her features a little, but setting aside her annoyance was another matter.

“I told you I wouldn’t be able to go out tonight,” She shook her head. “What are you doing here?”

“I found something I think you’ll be interested in,” Leon replied, setting down a small file on the table. Ada sat up and irritably gestured to it, waiting for an explanation. “You said you were certain Wesker had his hands in the LAPD,” Leon finally said. “Turns out, he’s got more than a bit of a hand in there.”

Ada frowned. “What do you mean?”

“His money is what created the Special Tactics and Rescue Service,” Leon said, looking rather disconcerted by the thought. “And, based on the records, he has the capacity to use them as his own….let’s just say it could be used as his personal mafia men...or, as my boss Jill never lets me forget, mafia women.”

Ada flinched at the thought. “I can’t say I’m all that surprised.”

“I thought you ought to know,” Leon tapped his fingers against the table for a minute before he hesitantly sat down beside her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” She said, tiredly brushing her hair away from her eyes. “Albeit too damn tired to think this through clearly.”

“I’ll let you rest,” Leon gently patted her hand. “I’ll leave the information I found here for you to look at later. Probably for the best, anyways. You know much more about him than I do.”

“No shit…” Ada muttered.

Leon nodded shortly and stood up again quickly. Well before he could slip out, however, Ada took his hand and stopped him.

“Stay the night,” She spoke quietly, and for a second he was sure he had misheard her. “I would feel better, at any rate.”

Leon stared at her in surprise. “Ada, I really shouldn’t.”

“I’m not asking you to do anything indecorous,” She sighed and kissed his cheek. “I’m only asking you to stay, not to sleep with me or anything of that nature.”

Leon hesitated. “Are you sure you would feel better if I stay?”

Ada sent him a pointed look. “Since when do I say things I don’t mean?”

Smiling faintly, Leon nodded. “Alright,” He agreed, letting go of her hand. “You’re an enigma, Ada,” He whispered as she loosely embraced him. “You really are.”


	5. Chapter 5

The set was bustling once again, and Claire Redfield had never been more nervous to have Detective Kennedy on set with them. She wrote it off to the suspicious, mildly irritated looks that Wesker sent him every time the two men met the other’s gaze, but she wondered if there were something more to her discomfort. She shook it off, telling herself to focus on her work. After all, it would only be a matter of time before she got yelled at if she lost focus. Settling instead to bury herself in the task at hand, Claire muttered to herself and kept running boxes of new supplies across the set. By all means, it was work meant more for stage hands than a makeup artist such as herself but, then again, she was only the assistant. To no end did reminders of her less than ideal position annoy her. As she was apt to remind people, she had attended trade school and graduated at the top of her class in cosmology. This, Claire fully believed, was beneath her.

“Just be grateful you have a job my ass,” Claire swore under her breath, slamming down a box of unopened wigs on top of the pile. “Fuck you, Chris. I wouldn’t be stuck doing this if I had a dick too.”

Remembering the box cutter was on the other side of the room, Claire let out an irritable sigh and ran her hands through her hair. She stomped over to grab it and shoved it, the blade in its casing, into one of the many pockets of her smock. As she turned around to get back to work, something glinting up in the rafters caught her eye. Frowning, Claire quickly climbed the ladder up onto the catwalk and, slowly, she walked across it to get a better look. Oddly, as she got closer, the glinting seemed to resemble a crystal, perhaps a precious stone of some kind. Her stomach sank when she was close enough to reach and grab it. The thing clasped in her hands was, by her reckoning, a diamond necklace, inlaid with rubies. She was certain it was worth at least a small fortune.

A flash of dishonesty falling over her, Claire slipped the cold necklace into her bra, tying it there with the excess fabric of the flimsy contraption. Though it wasn’t fashionable, in this moment, she was grateful to have a slightly larger chest; she wasn’t quite sure how she would conceal it otherwise. Hearing her name called from below, Claire quickly scurried down the ladder. A few stage hands needed her to help move a couch for the next scene. Almost as a reflex reaction, she wanted to react to the request sarcastically but she settled for resignation. It was just past midday, and the shoot would wrap for the day in just five hours. Five hours until she would be released. So far as she was concerned, it was five hours more of putting up with the irritating personalities she was forced to affect cool politeness despite all of the remarks that bit on the tip of her tongue.

_ If I’m right _ , Claire thought with no shortness of relief and satisfaction.  _ Then this could very well be the last few hours I have to put up with this bullshit. _

* * *

“Kennedy!”   


Leon turned around in surprise upon hearing Wesker call after him. With a restrained, professional smile, Leon stopped and waited until the director stopped himself to gesture for him to speak. There was a hint of pervasive worry in the back of his mind, fuelled by the fear that the man had either determined his true intentions for being so frequently on set or the nature of his relationship with the man’s rising star. Nevertheless, he set it aside with a perfectly schooled face that betrayed nothing but calm calculation, something expected of those in his line of work. Still, he couldn’t hide his surprise when Wesker grasped his shoulder, jovially offered him a cigar which he refused, and then laughed. It was almost as if he were face to face with a copy of a man he was growing more and more suspicious of having the capacity to commit cold blooded murder.

“Do you need anything of me, Wesker?” Leon cooly asked, adjusting his work bag over his shoulder. “I was just about to head back to the station and review what paperwork I imagine has accumulated on my desk over the day.”

“I won’t keep you long,” Wesker replied, taking a draw on his cigar. “Firstly, I believe I should thank you for your security services on set the last month. In light of the recent tragedies, I imagine it has made my crew much more comfortable. Ada’s request of your presence was quite opportune. She really does look out for those around her, does she not?”

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t know,” Leon lied without hesitation. “I haven’t spent much time with Miss Wong. She’s quite busy, after all.”

“As you would expect for someone of her talents,” Wesker chuckled. “Well, of course, I am glad you keep your distance from her. I would prefer not to have to explain her engaging in a dalliance to the tabloids. And heaven forbid I lose my rising star to marriage and children of all things.”

Leon noted the controlling tone in the man’s voice but nodded politely. “That would be your primary concern,” He said mildly. “After all, you are in the business of selling people.”

Wesker grinned. “That could be inappropriately connotated,” He shrugged. “Then again, there’s nothing wrong with profiting off looks and talent. That is, after all, the entire premise of this industry and look how much money we make! If making money is so wrong, then I sincerely doubt we live in America anymore!”

“Yes, I agree,” Another lie rolled off his tongue but Leon forced himself to not give a damn. “Is there anything else you would like to discuss with me?”

“Only one more thing,” Wesker said, stubbing out his cigar. “I would like to request your presence at another party this weekend to keep an eye on Ada and a few of my other stars. After….well, after Thelma’s party I would rather not risk people mistaking them for….degenerates, if you will. Not that I’m blaming poor Thelma, of course, merely that man she works alongside. He seems to be quite slick and rather...questionable, to say the least.”

“If that’s what you request and the department approves it, I will be there,” Leon said curtly. “Now, please, excuse me.”

“Yes, of course,” Wesker said with a smile that, unbeknownst to him, unsettled the detective. “Good night, Kennedy.”   


“Good night, Wesker,” Leon replied, masking the bitterness he so longed to let loose in his voice.

* * *

“He wants you to keep an eye on me?” Ada rolled her eyes and reached to refill her wine glass. “God, I’m going to need to take up drinking if I keep working for him.”

Leon eyed her strangely for a few seconds. “Why did you sign with him and Paramount in the first place, Ada?” He pressed. “That is, if you don’t mind me asking,”

“It’s simple,” She replied, taking a sip of her wine. “They offered me the most money and were the least restrictive of any of the contracts I signed. They, for instance, didn’t include stipulations about my weight in the contract as many other studios out here do.”

Leon raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”

“I told you the industry can be disgusting,” Ada shook her head. “It’s worth it, for me, but too many studio execs and directors get under my skin. They all are awful human beings, and I still wonder how they can convince so many that they are charming, decent people.”

“That’s a diagnosing trait of a sociopath, actually,” Leon noted. “We were taught to identify those signs early in department training.”

“Lovely,” Ada muttered. “I work for a lot of sociopaths, many of whom I’m sure would love to force themselves on me.”

“Is that really how Hollywood operates?”

“Depends on who you are. If you’re lucky enough, you never have to partake in ‘couch entertaining’ and, so far, I have been lucky.”

Leon grimaced. “I’m amazed you continue your craft.”

“It’s more than the craft,” Ada replied, sighing heavily. “More of it has to do with the money. Apart from film, there aren’t many lines of work where a woman can sustain herself, especially as she gets older. Most of my friends who didn’t become hits on Broadway or transfer to film and succeed here instead have married wealth and had children because that’s the most secure future for most women. As for me, I’m afraid of that. I don’t want to commit quite yet, and I certainly am not in any state where I want to be a mother.”

“So this is really your only option?” Leon shook his head. “That’s awful, Ada. I’m sorry you feel so trapped.”

“Trapped isn’t the right word,” She replied, chewing at the inside of her cheek. “Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love what I do. I just….I know that it is the only way for me to sustain myself in the kind of life I want. A life with some semblance of freedom. Don’t you understand that?”

Leon hesitated. For a few seconds, he didn’t know what to say. He certainly didn’t want to confess to her how hard he had been falling for her since their reunion but he didn’t want to lie either. She was still Ada. She was the only person in the world he believed was entitled to the truth.

“I hope Wesker knows that I do not and will not always play by his rules,” Ada went on, barely noticing as she laid her hands over his. “Now...or after we figure out what the hell he’s done.”

“I hope that too,” Leon said, swallowing his feelings. “For your sake in particular.”


	6. Chapter 6

“How are you, Detective Kennedy?”

“Detective! Lovely to see you!”

“Kennedy! Join us!”

Leon resisted the desperate urge to roll his eyes and leave the damn party the second he could. All things considered, he was more bored than anything else and wanted to ignore the actresses, directors, actors, and everyone else around them. Every so often, he found himself stealing a glance with Ada, who was, he imagined, more than a bit tipsy. Wesker was engrossed in conversation with several others -- primarily the studio executives --while leaving little to the imagination when he would approach a young actress he sought to buy out of their contracts. Grimacing a bit when he saw the man touch a waitress quite low on the waist, Leon turned tail and walked quickly across the room for a drink. It had already been a long evening, and it was far from over.

_ Thank God they know I have a gun _ , Leon bitterly mused as he took back a flute of champagne.  _ I can’t deal with this bullshit right now. _

“Mae, Jewel, come! I’d like to introduce you to Kennedy. He’s been quite kind since he became our security manager on set, especially after the --”

“Dreadful accidents?” Thelma put in, a low, nervous whisper to her voice.

_ Even other stars are nervous too _ , Leon masked his surprise and merely sighed, reaching for another drink.  _ I still can’t believe that these women can be so renowned yet also so controlled. I wonder if Jill might know more about it… _

“Detective Kennedy,” Ada smiled and leaned against the bar beside him. “I’d like you to meet Miss Mae Busch, Miss Jewel Carmen, and, of course, you’ve already met Miss Thelma Todd.”

The three actresses shared brief glances. Leon quickly tried to read their faces, well aware they were likely suspicious of him. Ada reached for his hand under the bar and squeezed it before quickly letting it go. He turned to her in surprise, but lightly smiled. She smiled back, faintly winking.

“You’re not going to tell anyone about our alcohol, are you?” Jewel eyed him critically. “You are a member of the LAPD, after all.”

“I doubt any of us would,” Leon replied. “Truthfully, we enjoy alcohol as much as anyone.”

“Kennedy is quite an upstanding man,” Ada told them. “Not to mention…”

She trailed off, her eyes going wide in surprise upon seeing a young woman enter the manor’s ballroom alone. The three actresses turned around to see what had surprised her, but were quickly called aside by others. Ada breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn’t much wanted to address her connections; she acknowledged they were important, and she had no issues with the other women. Shaking her head, Ada reached for the glass she had set down and took a light sip, closing her eyes in thought. Leon turned to her, rubbing his neck. He wanted to speak but, then, he recognised the woman she had been staring at. Although her hair seemed a bit darker and was held up by a butterfly clip that, from a distance, looked to be encrusted with diamonds, her face was very much the same.

“How did Redfield manage to be invited here?” Ada breathed, her eyes still closed. “I know she quit her job and likely had come into money but…”

“That dress and jewelry looks expensive,” Leon remarked, his brow furrowing in confusion. “How much money would she have come into?”

“Quite a bit, I imagine,” Ada opened her eyes, scanning the room for Redfield, who was coming closer as she meandered the room. “I can’t say I’m not surprised. Who would have imagined she of all people would come into money? Perhaps her brother did well on the stock exchange? Or another family member?”

“Maybe,” Leon mused, his eyes narrowing. “I have to admit, I’m curious.”

“Claire?” Ada called out.

The young woman startled but smiled and waved. Leon rubbed his temples tiredly while the woman approached. Ada and Claire loosely embraced and, out of the corner of his eyes, Leon saw Wesker noticing the two of them, a flash of irritation crossing his face.

“When were you invited?” Ada asked, eyeing Claire in surprise. “I never would have imagined you would be here tonight.”

Claire smiled. “I received an invitation out of the blue last night. I bought these this morning. Aren’t they lovely, Ada?”

“Yes, you do look wonderful,” Ada replied with a faint smile. “But is that silk? Or diamonds and pearls?”

“They are,” Claire replied. She turned to Leon and shook his hand. “Good to see you again, Detective Kennedy, now that I am no longer working for Paramount and Mister Albert Wesker.”

“Good to see you as well,” Leon looked at Ada out of the corner of his eyes, and she sighed. Claire noticed, but she did not let on. “I imagine you must be in good spirits, having come into such wealth of late, Miss Redfield.”

Claire laughed uncomfortably. “I am,” She said. “It was quite surprising, but I’m happy with it. After all, I never have had much finery in my life.”

Leon nodded. “I imagine that would be quite nice.”

“Change usually is,” Ada put in, smiling. “Well, you do look nice, Claire. I’m glad you’re doing well.”

“Thank you, Ada,” Claire took in a sharp breath upon seeing Wesker begin to approach them. “Ah! Mister Wesker! How are you, sir?”

Wesker met her gaze and frowned. “Quite well,” He said coldly. “I will say, I never expected a….pauper such as you to end up here. Are you by chance engaged to a mogul?”

Claire stiffened. “No,” She said shortly. “My family simply came into some money recently and wanted me to put my share of it towards my future. I think all of us know full well what that means, yes?”

Wesker snorted. “I do,” He said disdainfully. “A pauper like you ought to cement your new station soon. After all, who knows how long it will last?”

“Wes --” Ada tersely began.

“Come now, Ada,” Wesker said, puffing on a cigar and wrapping an arm over her shoulder. “Levity has been so rare of late. Let me jest.”

Leon felt his eyes narrow as he looked at the way Wesker held Ada, who swatted at him. Her discomfort was something Claire noticed too. The former makeup artist took a step back, reaching down for the knife attached to her upper thigh. She had a gun under her skirt, too, though she didn’t much want to use it unless she had to. All things considered, it would be hard to explain her way out of murder. Chris hadn’t been too pleased when she had revealed the money (let alone how she had gotten it) but she knew full well he would protect her if it came down to it. Him and his girlfriend, as fate would have it. Claire shot a brief look at Kennedy, remembering what Jill had said of him when she had learned she was his superior.

_ Leon? He hasn’t been in Los Angeles for very long but he has shown himself to be a capable investigator and member of law enforcement, _ Jill had laughed and then rolled her eyes.  _ I will say, he does pluck at my nerves sometimes, but most of the people in the department do. I’m surprised you didn’t ask Chris about him, though. Both of us work in the department. Why’d you come to me? _

Claire hadn’t told her the truth; that she knew Chris would be concerned about the nature of things on set if she began to ask too many questions about the police presence. Then again, Claire knew she told herself plenty for the sake of keeping herself calm. This, she refused to admit, was one of those times. At the end of the day, though she loved her brother and knew he had good intentions, Jill was a woman like her and they both knew how dangerous a woman coming forward about any matter could be. It was all because of people like Wesker, and, though he was their source of funds and quite likely a member, STARS knew it. That was what Claire had been able to gather, at any rate.

“Don’t be like that Ada!” Wesker exclaimed, laughing while she wrenched out of his grasp. “Come now, I’m only acting in good fun!”

“I need a drink,” Ada said, irritably approaching the bar and ordering a (decidedly full) glass of wine. “This night is long enough as it is.”

Wesker, by the looks of it, took her remark as a joke. Knowing better, Leon eyed her worriedly for a few seconds and then looked back at Wesker. The man was watching Redfield rather intently, and Leon was almost afraid to know why.


	7. Chapter 7

Ada dizzily sat down on the edge of her bed, unsure of whether or not she were hungover or exhausted. Perhaps, she mused, it was both. The night before was hazy after she had seen Claire, and she barely remembered Leon escorting her back to her apartment. He was not there now -- he had to be at the police station, she imagined -- but she didn’t have to be on set and imagined he would be back later. She hoped so, at the very least. Either way, Ada was relieved to not be entirely alone. The business was isolating, and Wesker seemed to know it. She wondered if he wanted that of her, if he had more disturbing motives than she knew for putting so much emphasis on propelling her towards larger stardom. In and of itself, the thought worried her.

Sighing heavily, Ada laid down and closed her eyes. She began to tiredly probe her forehead, trying to think clearly. She told herself there was nothing to worry about and that she was being paranoid. Wesker had no reason to hurt her, she told herself, even if she was sure he had been involved in the deaths of others. Swallowing hard, Ada remembered how odd seeing Claire had been just ten some odd hours before. She knew Claire had quit her job, but she hadn’t imagined she had become wealthy by any means. Of course, she supposed that Claire’s family could very well have come into money, as she had claimed, but Ada still couldn’t believe Claire had managed to get herself invited to the party.

_ It isn’t as if just anyone gets let in there _ , Ada chewed at the inside of her cheek, her head throbbing.  _ I thought it was only socialites and those associated with the upper echelons of the industry. Claire’s only ever been a struggling make up artist, hasn’t she? _

Just considering the night tied her stomach up in knots. While seeing Claire had definitely been strange, what bothered her more was the way the night had ended. The party had gone on until the early morning, as was pretty common, but it had ended in an unusually quiet manner, not to mention how she hated how fuzzy her memories were. Finally forcing herself to stand up, Ada walked into the small kitchen and began to make herself a cup of coffee to ease her headache. Her silk robe hung limply against her slim figure, and her hair was in disarray. For once, she didn’t care. It wasn’t as if she was going out and would be seen out much that day -- if at all -- and she didn’t want to be seen much either. Her mind was far too hazy to handle the pressures of the set, and she was relieved she didn’t have any filming for a little while. At the very least, she didn’t think she had the will to keep going.

“What the hell am I even doing?” Ada probed her forehead, trying to think. “God, how long has it been since I haven’t been able to remember a night?”

Ada watched her hands shake while she poured the cold coffee into a mug. She could have sworn she was going to drop it, but she managed to hold it steady enough not to spill anything on the floor or (much worse, she imagined) on herself. Hearing a bit of creaking outside her door, Ada flinched only to realise it was only her neighbors. Feeling silly, she finished pouring her coffee, took a couple of sips, and then walked over to where she kept her weapons under the floor. Almost longingly, Ada weighed her gun in her hands, pulling out the magazine and replacing it with a full one. She didn’t want a fight, but she was afraid of what would happen if she let her guard down for even a minute.

_ After all, plenty of women in this town have before, and look where it has gotten them. _

“Dead, disgraced, disappeared,” Ada recounted to herself, having heard only too many stories over the years since she had first entered the industry. “That’s what happens when you let your guard down.”

Swallowing hard, Ada grabbed her remaining magazines and dropped them into the small purse she kept by the door. She then set the purse and her gun down on the counter, quickly finished her coffee, tried to ignore the nausea that permeated her being and the throbbing of her skull, and grabbed a pair of thick tights and a warm dress. The rising star changed quickly, feeling a little better just in being more covered. Catching a glimpse of the thick silver shoulder plates she kept decoratively on her nightstand as a memento from her first successful film, Ada slipped them into her dress to cover her bra. The plating was strong and she was fairly certain that it would withstand at least a few bullets if she were to be shot at.

_ If you get shot at, at least you’ll have your own weapons to fire back,  _ Ada pulled her coat on quickly and grabbed her purse and weapon, which she tucked into the pocket of her furs as she slipped out of her apartment. It was eerily silent in the halls of her building, but she paid it no mind.  _ I have to pay Claire Redfield a visit...if I can find her, at any rate. _

* * *

“I was a little surprised my sister came into money,” Chris remarked, grabbing a doughnut before Leon could with a smirk. “But I’m happy for her. I guess she finally got access to whatever money our parents left her in their will or something like that. Hell, maybe she’s engaged to someone with a lot of money. Is she involved with Wesker by chance?”

Leon recoiled in disgust. “I doubt anyone is involved with him long term. He’s a major director. What does he need with a wife when he can pay for any woman he wants to do anything he wants with whenever?”

“You have a point,” Chris chuckled. “But, you know, having a wife isn’t a bad thing. You have someone who understands you, who you understand and love. Sounds nicer than paying for whores, even if Wesker can pay for at least four floors of whores any day of the week.”

“Sounds like you’ve thought about this too,” Leon remarked, reaching for the last doughnut and trying to smack Chris’ hand away before he could grab it too. However, much to the surprise of both men, a smaller hand grabbed it and took a bite with a smirk.

“Hmm, looks like you boys saved my favorite,” Rebecca Chambers smirked at them both and then laughed. “Thanks for that.”

“Well, well!” Chris exclaimed, clasping his hands together jovially. “One of the only women in the world to know anything about science graces us with her presence. How’s the forensics lab looking? Any sexy corpses?”

Rebecca sent him a disdainful look. “Don’t make it sound like my work is fun and games, Redfield,” She warned him, stiffening. “I’ve had to break my back to get here, and I’m not taking that lightly.”

“Helps your parents are wealthy as fuck,” Chris shrugged. “But you’ve got brains...and with that short hair, you might as well be a man too.”

Rebecca snorted. “Because that’s exactly what I want. To be a man.”

“Need anything?” Leon asked before Chris could say anything else that would set her off.

“Just bringing a report to Jill,” Rebecca curtly told him. “Apparently we’re receiving a body from the county coroner’s office that was found oddly posed in an empty lot. I have to give her the report and discuss a few things with her before I can do a forensic examination of it which, I’ll have you know, is much more detailed than just ‘re-doing an autopsy’ if that’s what you think I do.”

Leon put his hands up in surrender. “I’ve never said anything about what you do. If you have beef with anyone, it’s him.”

“Do they know who the body belongs to?” Chris asked.

Rebecca shook her head. “No, although, interestingly, your sister was the one who found it.”

Chris’ jaw dropped in abject horror. “Is Claire alright?”

“Well, she’s not dead,” Rebecca said tartly. “Right now she’s speaking with investigators. I’ll tell them to let you see her after they're done. She’s not being accused of anything, by the way, they just want to get a more detailed, first person account of the scene.”

“Right, right,” Chris said quickly. “Thank you for doing that, Rebecca.”

“Don’t thank me,” She muttered, starting back towards Jill’s office. “I’m not in any mood.”

Leon chewed on the tip of his pen while Chris nervously finished the doughnut he had started on a few minutes before. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes and ignored the phones ringing, allowing some of the lower-level members of the force and the secretaries to take the calls. Finally, Leon spoke.

“Sounds like this town is gruesome.”

“Gruesome doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Chris said darkly. “God, I really hope it’s not another person associated with Paramount. Makes us look bad too, given how much money Wesker donates to the department.”

“Sure does,” Leon mildly agreed. “That man unnerves me.”

“Me too,” Chris admitted. “But he doesn’t strike me as a killer...for whatever that may be worth.”

“Yeah,” Leon glanced around and then shook his head. “For whatever that’s worth.”


	8. Chapter 8

It had taken her nearly three weeks to find where Claire Redfield had moved to but, finally, she had done it. With a heavy sigh, Ada slowly walked up the steps to the apartment complex, referencing the note in her hand. She strolled past the elevators and slipped into the stairwell, feeling far more comfortable being unseen. Her dress was short, cut just a few inches past her knees, and it was quite light, causing her to pull her shawl a little tighter around herself. For whatever reason, the building felt particularly cold. She hated the feeling it gave her, and, every time a draft hit her, she had to resist the urge to whip around in alarm, feeling as if she were being followed. Nevertheless, she made her way up to the tenth floor and stepped out into the hall, referencing the note just one last time. Before she could knock on the door, however, a child of about twelve ran out of the apartment across the hall, nearly knocking her over onto the floor.

“I’m so sorry about that!” A rather hassled looking woman quickly came out of the apartment behind the child, who Ada assumed to be her daughter. “Sherry just hasn’t….”

The woman looked her up and down for a few seconds, her eyes going wide in surprise.

“You’re Ada Wong,” She observed shortly, gently restraining her daughter with one arm and extending the other to shake the actress’ hand. Ada obliged with a small, forced smile. “I’m Annette Birkin. My husband is one of the partners at Paramount Pictures, William Birkin.”

Ada’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I’ve worked with him before,” She said flatly. “He tends to work rather closely with Albert Wesker, who typically directs me.”

Annette nodded. “You are quite the talented drama actress. I’m not surprised you have met him.”

Ada eyed her for a brief moment. “Yes,” She agreed. “Sorry to ask, but do you know the woman who recently moved in across from your apartment, Claire Redfield? She used to work for me, and I was hoping to speak with her.”

Annette frowned. “She only just moved in a little while ago,” She finally said, lowering her voice. “Spends an inordinate amount of time with this woman who managed to get a job with the police department, Rebecca Chambers. I can’t imagine what they have to discuss. That aside, she doesn’t leave much and seems quiet….though for that I don’t blame her. According to William, she was the one who discovered the oddly posed body of Piers Nievan in that lot a month ago.”

Ada tensed. “Ah,” She let out a light sigh. “Is it safe to presume she’s home now, then?”

“I would say so,” Annette shook her head upon Sherry tugging on her hands. “Yes, alright, Sherry, we will go shopping now. I did promise you we would.”

Ada silently watched the two of them walk off towards the elevator, not moving even a few centimeters until she heard the ding of the elevator. Once she was sure it had begun its descent, she turned back towards the door to Claire’s apartment and lightly knocked on the door. It was quiet for awhile, and then, finally, she could hear footsteps quietly approaching the door. When it finally opened, she saw Claire though she looked almost nothing like she had the last time they had seen each other. She was dressed quite finely, though she had noticeable bags under her eyes despite her makeup. It was clear she was either overtired, stressed, or both. Claire hesitantly ushered her in and quickly shut the door behind them, locking it behind them.

“You look terrible,” Ada noted, watching Claire in concern. “Have you been alright?”

“For the most part,” She replied, a faint yet clear nervous edge to her voice. “Why are you here? Wesker didn’t send you to tell me off for quitting so suddenly, did he? Or someone else working at the production studio?”

Ada shook her head. “I wanted to talk to you about what’s been happening. Not just the killings of the last few months, either. I want to know how you suddenly came into money.”

Claire pressed her lips together in a fine line. “Those two things could very well be related,” She said coldly.

Ada crossed her arms. “And?”

“It’s just based on a few hunches,” Claire said quickly, her hands shaking a little as she drummed her fingers against the counter. “But it all comes back to one thing: I think Wesker is part of the mob.”

* * *

“Kennedy!” Chris barked, swaggering into the office with another man Leon didn’t recognise. “This is Carlos Oli...Ollie something, I don’t know. He’s going to be working with you and Kill-Jill on the murder cases! Chief Lyons made it official today!”

Jill Valentine, the sociologist who had been working for the department for nearly three years, now, looked up and gave Chris a disdainful look.

“I happen to be a member of STARS as well,” She snapped. “And I can shoot just as well as any other man on the squad. I wouldn’t forget that if I were you.”

Chris rolled his eyes and smacked her harshly in the back while he passed her. Leon grimaced upon seeing the way his boss whipped around, her hands clenching into fists. Whenever his boss got this enraged, he took a few steps back, and that was exactly what he did now. Carlos joined them, sitting down where Leon had stood up and moved across the table from. Jill eyed them both coldly, and pushed several case files towards them, reaching into her purse and pulling out a cigarette, lighting it up and taking a long draw on it. Leon waved the smoke away, his nose curling at the smell. For whatever reason, he hated it. Briefly, he had assumed it merely had to do with his disdain for Wesker, but Leon quickly pushed that thought aside. With a heavy sigh, he began to look over the files, unsurprised by the gruesome details Dr. Chambers had uncovered in her forensic examination of Piers Nievan’s death. Carlos flinched a bit when he opened the file.

“It’s Carlos Oliveira,” He eventually said, a faint accent in his voice as he offered his hand to Jill. She shook it with a restrained smile. “I’m from Chile, but I came here after doing work for your American government during the war.”

Jill nodded. “I’ve met plenty of others who worked through the war,” She said, inhaling deeply on her cigarette. “It certainly means a lot that people were so willing to fight with our country during the war. You have to consider how...trying those times were.”

“Absolutely,” Carlos replied. “I sincerely hope I can do more good work for this department while I’m in the country, though I don’t have any immediate plans of returning to Chile.”

“Leon here is also new to the area,” Jill gestured to Leon and kicked him under the table. “He’s from New York City, and the rookie on the force. I assume you’ve been brought over from another department?”

“Yes,” Carlos replied. “I was working in San Francisco before they transferred me here. Your city has been experiencing quite a bit of….quite a bit of murder, hasn’t it?”

“Regrettably,” Jill said, leaning back a bit against her chair with a frown. “It has been a tumultuous few weeks, I’m afraid. A few months, now, actually. I hate to acknowledge it, but the city has been rather shaken by these events and we haven’t many leads.”

“Ah,” Carlos shook his head. “I heard about this case with this man...Piers was his name, right? It’s disgusting, the things so many of these people are willing to do.”

“Notoriety is rather enticing for many people,” Leon noted, closing the case file with a look of disgust still clear in his face. “Sometimes people will do whatever the hell they want if they know they can get away with it or want the media attention.”

Jill blew smoke to the side and stubbed out the remains of her cigarette.

“I would tend to agree with that,” She said, a clear note of discomfort to her voice. “Now, of course, I say we all take a cursory look over these files again, and consider the possibility that all of these could be serial crimes. Piers was, after all, a director for Paramount and a public figure, unlike some of the others. It certainly is going to raise more eyebrows than the deaths of those extras, and that one makeup artist.”

Carlos frowned. “I don’t like the sound of any of that,” He said, his brow furrowing. “It’s already quite gruesome, the things that have happened.”

“Agreed,” Leon sighed, his thoughts wandering to Ada for not the first time that day. “I just hope no one else gets hurt...and that we can figure out who did this quickly."


End file.
